Ghost
by the.terrorist
Summary: Sasu/Saku. Three months after his return to Konoha, Sasuke is beginning to fall in a numbing routine and accommodate to a new life where everything is different and so much is still the same. Once Itachi's newborn daughter comes barreling into his home and heart, will he be able to find peace and finally heal?
1. Prologue

**Ghost**

Prologue

"Sasuke."

His name sounded strange and distant. It was as if he was submerged, deeply, into a pond filled with frozen water that chilled his body down to the very bone and stopped the heart he had no idea was still beating inside him.

Tsunade was in front of him. She sat behind her large, cluttered desk, blonde hair long and luscious and face as youthful as the first time he had seen her. But the usual expression of annoyance she wore every time she had him in her office to deal with his arrogant and emotionless countenance was nowhere in sight. Replacing it was a mask of genuine concern; her amber eyes were fixed on his still figure, watching him carefully, worryingly. For once, there was no bottle of sake standing tall and proud on top of her desk.

"What?" His voice was rough when he spoke. His throat felt parched, as if his tongue hadn't tasted a single drop of water in the last twenty-four hours.

At that point, he would have believed anything—even that.

Tsunade sighed, folding her hands carelessly on top of a yellow envelope. "Sasuke, I am aware of how hard hearing such news must be for you. However—"

"No, no," he interrupted, taking a step closer in his panicked state. "You don't understand. Repeat what you said."

His demeanor was calm, calmer perhaps even than what she was used to, but the Hokage wasn't so easily fooled.

With yet another heavy sigh, she stood and walked over to the large, panoramic window that overlooked a slumbering Konoha. Dawn was breaking, but the heavy clouds that pushed down upon the village impeded the sun from breaking through. The atmosphere had been charged since early evening, and the promise of a thunderstorm was now impossible to ignore.

It was ironic, if not a tad bit cruel, how the weather reflected the mood that had enveloped her office, replicating it so perfectly.

"Repeating it will not make it any less real, Sasuke," she announced, after a lengthy silence. "You heard right."

The Uchiha found it hard to _breathe_, much less swallow the lump that had formed in his throat. "You mean, my brother…"

"Your brother has a daughter," she announced, her tone cutting through his hesitance abruptly and almost cruelly. "And, as of now, you are her only living relative."

"How is that _possible_?" he hissed, his vicious glare digging into her back. There she was, turning his life upside down, and she didn't even have the decency to face him. "What do you _mean_ I'm her only living relative? What about her _mother_? Where is her mother? _Who_ is his mother?"

"Her mother was a civilian woman from a small village in Fire Country whose name I'm not allowed to divulge for obvious reasons. And she…" Tsunade paused, taking in a deep breath as she finally turned to face him. "She left her."

"What?" he breathed, gaping. He wanted to scream, but his voice left him.

"This child is an Uchiha, Sasuke. Her mother knew the identity of her father; she was perfectly aware of who he was and where he came from. Because of that, she came to the conclusion that it would be better for her if she lived here, in Konoha, in her father's hometown… with her uncle."

"_Fuck_, don't say that!" he snapped, reeling back. "Don't—That's _bullshit_! You don't just leave your child for someone else to look after!"

"I'm sorry, Sasuke," Tsunade said, genuinely. "I know—"

"I don't know the first thing about a baby!" he exclaimed, the panic clear in his voice. "A girl? I can't take care of her!"

"She only has you, Sasuke," the blonde insisted gently.

"I can't _do_ that!" he almost yelled in response.

In all the time she had known him, from spotting him on the streets when he was a mere child, to dealing with him when he was a rowdy Genin, to watching him broken but still fighting on the battlefield, Tsunade had never once seen him so distressed, and showing so much emotion.

"She's family, Sasuke," she tried to reason with him. Had the situation been another, there was no doubt she would have, by now, already lost her patience. But one had to be blind not to be aware of every single painful implication. "She's your niece—and she _needs_ you. I know this is difficult, but I also know you're not one to leave your family behind."

Her final words seemed to be his undoing; his tense posture relaxed, and the fury in his eyes retreated, leaving heart-wrenching pain in its wake.

"Fine." His answer was a mere whisper in the silent room, but it was there, and that was more than Tsunade could have asked for.

"Come with me to the hospital so that you can meet her, then."

* * *

"Hey! Hey, Sasuke-teme!" Naruto's overly-excited voice greeted them as soon as they stepped out of the elevator on the second floor of the hospital.

Tsunade took a moment to wonder whether it had truly been the best idea to allow Sakura to inform him of the current situation.

"Sasuke-teme! Is it true? Sakura-chan told me! Is it _true_? _Is_ it?"

"Shut your mouth, Naruto," the Hokage ordered before Sasuke could, pushing past him.

The Uchiha acknowledged no one as walked silently at her side, almost as though in a trance; his head was down, watching his feet, and his hands were buried in his pockets. It was clear he never had the smallest intention of sparing even his best friend a single word, and the blond seemed to catch on that, as he immediately quieted and began to follow them—his excitement palpable, but toned down.

It was a miracle he was able to obey her command and keep silent while in that state, and Tsunade was almost certain he was biting his tongue, but she was thankful for that, regardless.

Together, the three made their way down the long corridor that stretched ahead of them; people moved aside as they saw the Hokage in the lead, nodding their heads in respect. Taking a right turn, the blonde-haired woman stopped before a door and swiped an ID card through; one more right turn, and they came to a stop in front of a large window overlooking a small, standard hospital room.

Naruto was with his face stuck to the glass in an instant; Sasuke simply took his stand beside him, hands still in his pockets, onyx eyes unreadable as he gazed forward unflinchingly. The distance he left between him and the window spoke volumes about his true feelings, though; he was hesitant, and, probably without even realizing, afraid.

In all reality, his vision was so clouded and his mind so full he was having a hard time realizing where he was, what he was supposed to be doing, and what it all meant. All he could do was grasp the magnitude of the situation—and it _staggered_ him.

"Dude!" It was Naruto's awed exclamation that brought him back down to Earth. "_Look_ at her!"

His mouth was dry as his eyes seemed to suddenly focus on the sight in front of him.

The room that stretched behind the glass panel was small, with white walls and clean floors. There was a cabinet pushed up against the wall, opposite to the window, where a nurse, scrubbed up in sterile clothing, stood with her back to them and scribbled something on a clipboard. To the left, there was a chair, with a small table beside it. To the right, there was what he could only guess was a small incubator—and there, inside, was an even smaller human being.

Sasuke squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his head. He could barely glimpse her tiny feet, but he already felt sick to the stomach.

"Kami, she's the smallest, most adorable being I've seen in my entire life!" Naruto continued.

Sasuke swallowed hard in an effort to quench his nausea, and refused to raise his head or respond in any way, shape, or form to his friend's words.

Noticing that, the blond turned to face him, an annoyed expression on his face.

"Are you seriously never going to pull that stick out of your ass?" he demanded. "Not even now? What the hell is your problem?"

Upon hearing that, the Uchiha reacted in an instant, snapping his head up to glare at his best friend. "My _problem_?" he hissed. "Are you _that_ fucking stupid? I can't take care of a baby!"

"Geez, Sasuke, snap out of your stupid bubble! It's not like you have a choice! She's already here—and she's your family."

"Look, Sasuke," Tsunade cut in before the argument could turn into a physical fight. Stepping in front of Naruto, her body language commanded silence and attention, yet her tone remained gentle and as understanding as possible. "There _are_ options. We can go through all of them if you want. You had to know, because this woman left her child to you and because she is your niece; I thought and hoped that you would want her, but no one is going to force you to do anything you do not want to do. If you don't think you can handle—or for some reason you don't _want_ her, you have enough options to choose from."

Sasuke cringed at the words she had used. His thoughts had never revolved around him not wanting her, but simply…

"If you do decide to give her up for adoption, though… you have to consider the consequences. She may have the Sharingan, and if she does, you won't have any rights over her then."

"I don't…" He tried to speak, but what could he say? He couldn't sort out his thoughts and he couldn't even begin to understand his emotions.

"You don't have to give me an answer now," Tsunade told him. "Take some time to think about it. You need it."

* * *

With a shaky sigh passing his lips, Sasuke swung the door of his refrigerator shut with so much force it shook the machine and the wooden structure it was cradled into. Slapping his hands on the counter, he bent down and squeezed his eyes shut, willing with all his might for his nausea to leave him.

He had been searching for a bottle of water; his entire kitchen, however, was devoid of any nutritional substance except for a granola bar that he hadn't eaten on his latest mission and half a box of cereals that he couldn't use because he didn't have milk.

"Fuck," he spat. He didn't have food in the house, and he'd been back for nearly a week. He couldn't take care of himself; how was he supposed to take care of a _child_?

Groaning, he pushed away from the counter and swiftly turned around. Grabbing his keys and wallet from the table, he stormed out of the house and down the stairs, heading out into the early morning air for the supermarket. He had known it was high time he refilled his fridge and cabinets—he had found out the night before, when he'd actually wanted to cook dinner and ended up ordering a pizza because there wasn't anything in his entire house that he could use.

He shook his head, finding the entire situation cruelly ironic.

There he was, only a couple of hours prior: spread out on his couch, watching television with bored disinterest, munching on a slice of warm pizza, thinking about how he'd have to pass by the grocery store on his way back home from training the following day.

There he was, that very morning: pulled from his comfortable bed by a persistent knock at the door, called in for a meeting with the Hokage by a masked ANBU, thinking he'd have to leave grocery shopping for another time, because he had another mission to head out on.

And now, here he was: with everything he had come to know in the past couple of months thrown upside down by five words and a being so small it was barely visible.

He _didn't want_ to turn his back on her. Not because she was small and helpless and only had him, not because his entire existence had been centered on his family, but because she was his brother's daughter. Not because she was his _niece_. Because she was _Itachi's child._

She was… she was… she was family.

Kami, he didn't _want_ to abandon her, like her mother had obviously already done. But wouldn't it be better for her if he stayed away? Wouldn't it be better for her if she was taken in by someone who actually knew what they were doing? He'd fucked up his entire life, made more mistakes than he could count, and they expected him to raise a child and actually do a good job at it? It was a plan destined for failure, if you asked him.

Too bad nobody ever had.

Walking down streets that were only beginning to sizzle with activity, he stopped right in front of the supermarket.

A moment passed.

He closed his eyes and heaved a sigh, resigned. His feet moved, and led him forward.

The hospital was large and busy, and nobody paid him a speck of attention. The door to what he could recall Tsunade had called the NICU was wide open, and although he was aware of the fact that access to the area was restricted, he never even considered announcing his presence. If anything, he had a right to be there.

As little attention as he had paid when he was there earlier that day, Sasuke knew exactly where he was heading.

The window and the room were the same. Inside, there was no nurse, no sign of life other than the small being breathing steadily in the corner.

Closing his eyes, Sasuke let out a long, even breath, willing for his heartbeat to calm; leaning forward, he rested his hands and his forehead on the hard glass. The coldness seeped into his skin and traveled through his body until it seemed to wrap around his heart so completely it froze it for the second time that day.

How could he fail his brother again?

* * *

**A/N: This idea hit me exactly three days ago, and I was so excited that it was all I thought about. It still is. So, with the risk of falling even further behind with my updates, I decided to post it! Because I am, as I said, **_**so freaking excited.**_

**I have a very clear idea of where I want it to go. There will be twelve chapters, each for one month in the baby's life; there will be drama and there will be cuteness, and I hope you will enjoy! **

**Sasuke is seventeen here, as is Sakura and Naruto. He did try to kill Sakura, but he turned on Madara and helped win the war afterward. He never had any meeting whatsoever with Itachi or the former Hokage. **

**Also, keep in mind that I have no real life experience with a baby. I only held one **_**once**_** in my entire life, and I was about ten years old at the time. So, all my information will be taken from the internet.  
**

**Please review and let me know what you think! Much love and many cookies will then come your way! :)**


	2. One

**Ghost**

Chapter One

"You came back early."

Sasuke turned his head in the direction of the voice, only half surprised to see Tsunade approaching him. She was dressed in a white coat and had her hands buried in its pockets, and she watched him with an interested, slightly surprised look in her eyes.

He kept his gaze on her for a moment longer, before he turned it back to glass panel in front of him and the room that stretched beyond it. The blonde-haired woman came to stand beside him, but remained silent.

After a minute, it was him who broke the silence, clearing his dry throat before speaking, "Why is she in there?"

"She was a bit premature," Tsunade answered, with a tone so nonchalant it almost made him angry.

"…What?" he breathed, eyes fixed on her small feet.

"She was born three days ago, on August 15th. Her mother left last night, after telling us whose daughter she was and that she doubted she could handle the responsibility. She's doing great, though. She's in there to give her a bit of help, but she's very healthy. If you want, you'll be able to take her home in a couple of days."

Sasuke swallowed, making a conscious effort to keep his emotions in check and to maintain some sort of order in his thoughts. "Her mother… she knew she was going to give her up. That's why she came here," he concluded.

"I suppose so," Tsunade agreed. "She asked specifically for you, Sasuke. She said that she was aware of the fact that Itachi had a brother and that he was here… and she asked us to give her to you."

"What's her name?" he inquired, partly because he was curious, partly because he wanted to deviate from the path the conversation was quickly slipping on.

She shook her head. "She doesn't have one."

Sasuke sighed and buried his hands in his pockets. To know that her mother had planned on abandoning her maybe from the moment she knew she would have her was one thing. To know that she hadn't even bothered to give her a name was another, and it spoke volumes about how little she had actually cared about her. Leaving her was the best for her daughter? No, it was the best for _her_. And it made Sasuke sick and so resentful that it clouded his mind every time he thought about it.

"Do you want to go in?" Tsunade asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

He must have looked panicked as he snapped his head in her direction, because she seemed to be hiding a smile. In all reality, it was a while since she'd last seen his eyes so wide—and so innocent in their confusion.

"You're not committing yourself to anything by seeing her," she assured him.

After a minute, she received a stiff nod in response.

"Alright," she said. Pushing past him, she walked further down the corridor and opened the door to what he could only guess was a supply closet, pulling out two neatly folded blue gowns, one of which she handed to him once she was beside him again. "Put that on," she ordered. "Hygiene reasons."

The gown in question was blue, soft, and see-through, tying at the back with a string. Sasuke found it ridiculous that it was hospital protocol, since what could it possibly do in terms of hygiene? But his throat was still far too dry for him to engage into a fight simply because he was arrogant. Once Tsunade tied the knot on her own blue gown, she placed her hand on the knob and opened the door with a swipe of her ID card.

"Now, I know there is a lot of equipment here," she started as they both entered the small room, leaving the door to close by itself behind them. It was all silent except for the beep of machines and the sound of oxygen being pumped. "But I assure you, she's alright. It's all there to make her feel better faster." As she made her way to the cabinet, she ordered, "Wash your hands."

He wanted to snap that his hands were very much clean, the anxiety making him feel powerless and frustrated, but once more, he forced his venomous reply down and walked to the small sink he had failed to notice before.

After he had done what he had been asked, he turned around, at the same time Tsunade placed down the clipboard and walked the short distance to the incubator in the corner opposite from him.

"Come here," she beckoned, waving him over with her hand.

Sasuke's breath caught in his throat; he didn't move forward, but he was almost certain he took a step back.

"Sasuke," Tsunade called. She had turned her head and was now watching him with a somewhat amused look in her eyes. He would have been annoyed had he had place for one more emotion inside him. "You said you wanted to see her. Nothing bad can happen. Come on."

It took a minute, but he managed to gather his bearings enough to place one foot in front of the other. Before he knew it, he was standing beside Tsunade, and he was gazing down at the smallest human being he was sure had ever existed on the face of the planet.

She was lying on a thick, white blanket; she was fast asleep and so tiny that her diaper seemed to swallow at least half of her body. Her skin was pale and unblemished, and her little hands were curled into even smaller fists. She had ten fingers and ten toes and her eyelashes were so long they practically sat on her small, rosy cheeks. But what truly made his heart stop the very moment he laid his eyes on her tiny figure was that there, on top of her head, laid a thick mop of unruly, blue-tinted, black hair. Hair like his. Hair like his brother's.

"Fuck," he breathed, running a hand over his jaw as he gazed down at her. There had been a part of him, he then realized, that had been hopelessly wishing everything had been a mistake—hopelessly wishing she wasn't his brother's daughter, hopelessly wishing she wasn't his niece and his responsibility.

"I suppose it must be hard now to ignore who she is," Tsunade said, as if reading his thoughts. "But we can have a DNA test if you want."

"No, that…" He shook his head. "There's no point."

"I thought the same," she agreed with a nod.

They both looked down when the baby moved, stretching slightly while letting out a small squeak.

Tsunade smiled. "Do you want to hold her?" she asked, turning her gaze back to Sasuke.

His first reaction was to shake his head.

The blonde's smile widened. "She doesn't bite."

"I'll drop her," was his strangled reply, and the Hokage almost felt bad for finding the situation amusing.

"I'll be here to catch her," she offered. When Sasuke remained silent, she smiled again and shook her head. "I'll get her out because it's time for her to eat," she announced. "If you change your mind, let me know."

With that, she turned her back on him. Sasuke could only watch, breathless, as she expertly maneuvered the tiny baby out of the incubator, wrapping her in another blanket before cradling her into her arms. She made another noise, somewhere between a squeak and a gurgle, and seemed to open her eyes. Sasuke had put too much distance between them to know for sure.

"Sasuke," Tsunade called, and he snapped his head up to catch her gaze. "You're already here. Hold her. It can't hurt."

"I…" Words failed him, the same as his brain.

"Come on," the blonde insisted.

Sasuke blinked. "I don't kno—"

"Hold your arms like mine," she instructed, ignoring his half-hearted protests.

He hesitated, his mind screaming at him that it was a bad idea, but his arms seemed to move on their own accord as they replicated Tsunade's hold.

"Good," she said, moving to hand the baby over. It was nothing short of a miracle that he managed to stay calm once she was finally in his hold. "Be careful with her head," Tsunade warned, but it fell on deaf ears, as he was completely entranced by the being in his arms.

She was warm and surprisingly firm, but she weighted nothing. She barely measured the length of his forearm, and her entire head could fit in the palm of his hand.

Squeaking again, she opened her eyes, the onyx clear and intense, even if heavy lids narrowed them to mere slits.

"Go sit down so you can give her the bottle," the Hokage instructed, and for once, he obeyed instantly.

While she worked on preparing her food, Sasuke watched his niece with soft eyes. She truly was perfect, and, dare he say it, almost beautiful. But that counted for nothing, he supposed, since all babies looked the same. She seemed sleepy, but comfortable and warm, wrapped up in her soft, pink blanket, moving her arms in lazy, yet jerky, movements, opening her eyes only to close them back.

The protective instinct that had been lying dormant inside of him suddenly roared to life and hit him head-on, stinging like a slap to the face. He realized then—through everything he had been feeling that morning, protectiveness had been there, as well, when Tsunade told him her mother had left her or when he saw the incubator with her little feet and the nurse beside it. For a moment, he was under the impression that it was a good sign—that he felt protective. Strength was all he had achieved in his short seventeen years of age, so, surely, he could take care of her if that was what he wanted. But then he remembered how entirely capable he was of ruining everything good in his life, and swallowed heavily.

"Here," Tsunade said, bringing him back from his thoughts. She approached him, holding a small bottle of milk in her hand, which she only had to tap to the baby's lips once. Small as she was, she latched on immediately, sucking greedily. The blonde nodded for him to take over, and he did, praying that his hand had stopped shaking.

It had.

Taking a deep breath, he willed his tense muscles to relax, but with his gaze fixed on the little creature in his arms, that seemed to be an impossible feat.

How was he supposed to look after something so small, so utterly helpless? How did they expect him to? He made mistake after mistake, took every wrong turn he could possibly take, and now there he was, with the Hokage in front of him, entrusting him with his older, dead brother's newborn. Once again, he wondered: was she _aware_ of the magnitude of what she planned on doing? Had she finally gone crazy and was ready to hand the hat over to Naruto?

The baby finished the milk in record time, leaving Sasuke bewildered. _That was it?_ he wanted to ask as Tsunade took the now empty bottle from his hand. He could do that. But he already knew the answer to that question, and no, he couldn't do it.

The baby, however, seemed to have a different idea. She opened her eyes, yawned, and looked up at him with the same onyx orbs he looked down at her. Moving his hand to tuck the blanket tighter around her little body, he stopped for a moment to touch her tiny hand. Her reaction was instantaneous: her fist opened, and the next thing he knew, ten little fingers were wrapped around his own, much bigger one, squeezing tightly. Then she yawned again, shifted, and, Kami, she _snuggled_ in his chest. She closed her eyes and nuzzled her cheek against his shirt, and Sasuke's heart stopped without the intention of ever starting again.

"Sasuke," Tsunade whispered, crouching down in front of him. Tearing his eyes away from his niece was a battle he almost lost. "Trust me when I say there is no one she would be better off with right now other than you."

Whether he realized it or not, that was everything he had needed to hear in order for his resolve to break in tiny, unrecognizable splinters.

* * *

The following week passed in a blur, days and nights merging together in a ball of conflicting feelings.

While his niece continued her stay in the hospital, Sasuke tried his hardest to put some semblance of order in his thoughts. He'd given up on his emotions the moment Tsunade took her from his arms to place her back in the incubator; he'd never felt more fear, distress, emptiness, and acceptance together. It was startling and it made him all the more terrified, but he'd made a decision and it would now be impossible for him to back out. It had been impossible to remove himself from this predicament long before he even had the chance to make a decision. His fate—and, apparently, his niece's, too—had probably been planned out the very second her mother found out she was pregnant. A woman like her, a woman capable of leaving her child with a stranger, couldn't have taken any longer to make a decision about her fate; a split second was more than enough.

Sasuke was unsure that he would ever find a way to think of her as anything other than a monster because of that.

Quickly as it passed, that week was almost normal. He slept, trained, ordered takeout, was forced to eat ramen with Naruto, and woke up in a cold sweat due to his recurring nightmares. He had trouble even _falling_ asleep, though, his mind torturing him with thoughts of failure and responsibility.

Sasuke wasn't ready for this—he wasn't ready for this in the least. He had trouble holding a conversation; he had trouble adapting and opening up to people; the only reason why he accepted Naruto around was because their friendship was so effortless—because, somehow, the idiot understood without him having to explain. He couldn't handle responsibility. He couldn't dedicate the little time he had to spare to forming bonds or meeting people or focusing on anything other than himself because he still had so many problems and so many demons haunting him. Trusting him with a child was… inconceivable.

He beat Naruto up during training a total of three times because of that. The idiot either had no idea about everything that he was feeling or he was trying to distract him by not addressing the issue, because he had laughed at him twice under the pretext that his fear was so blatantly obvious it was downright amusing.

Sasuke beat him up once more after the first time he said that. The second time he turned his back on him and ignored his pleads of paying for his ramen.

Towards the end of the week, Tsunade called him to her office. Apprehensive was hardly a strong enough word to describe what he had felt when the ANBU vanished from his doorstep, leaving him only with her message hanging in the air. But he pushed it back and obeyed the orders he had been given.

Whether because she had realized he needed it or because _she_ needed _him_, she sent him on a mission. He would be back in a matter of only two days, and in the meantime, the Hokage suggested he could leave her the keys to his apartment so that she could send someone in to drop everything he would need in order to properly take care of his niece. Sasuke would have probably had the decency to thank her if he hadn't suddenly become so numb with anxiety.

Knowing that he would have to take care of a baby was jarring enough. Knowing _everything_ he would need and therefore have to do in order to take care of a baby was a bit more than he could handle.

True enough, when he returned from his mission, one of the rooms in his small, two-bedroom apartment was unrecognizable. There was new furniture neatly arranged around the space and colorful shopping bags cluttered in a corner. Sasuke made his way forward and crouched down in front of them, sticking his hand inside one and pulling out a soft, petal-pink dress that was no bigger than his forearm.

He felt the nausea returning after that, so he dropped it back into the bag and high-tailed it out of the room. He managed to make it to his bedroom before he dropped onto the bed and practically _forced_ himself to drift off to sleep.

* * *

On Monday afternoon the following week, Sasuke stood in the middle of his living room with his weightless, sleeping niece in his arms. She was small and all curled up, with her little head resting in the crook of his neck, her even breaths fanning against his exposed skin.

"Alright, you have everything you need—" a high-pitched, familiar voice sounded from the direction of the kitchen as the sound of footsteps were heard coming down the hallway.

"Yamanaka," Sasuke immediately felt the need to say, "Shut up."

Blue eyes glared and hands sat on her hips as the blonde-haired woman turned the corner. "Is that your way of saying thank you, Uchiha?" she demanded.

"I didn't ask for your help," he stressed, sending her a pointed look.

"No, but Tsunade-sama did!"

"Ask _her_ to thank you, then," he retorted easily, vaguely aware that the murmur of his chest could awaken the baby and subtly motivating himself to lower the tone of his voice.

Ino seemed furious, but it was almost ridiculous how little he could care about that.

"_You_, Uchiha Sasuke, are the worst brat I have ever met," she spat, pointing a finger at him in what he guessed was a threatening manner in her book. "And I hope—and I will be praying—that this innocent child doesn't turn out the same."

A part of him claimed he was supposed to roll his eyes at such a comment, but instead, he glared as hard as he could at the woman standing in front of him.

"I still got you everything you could possibly need," she continued, annoyance radiating from her voice as she stomped her way to the exit. "Good luck with learning how to use it." The door slid closed behind her, and the Uchiha scoffed.

He was aware of the fact that Tsunade had most likely assigned Yamanaka a mission to make sure the transition from living alone to suddenly having to take care of baby would be as smooth as possible. He believed that was utter _bullshit_, so all he had thought about as his niece was discharged was how to get the loudmouthed blonde out of his hair faster. He had accepted enough help as it was; he drew the line at having people living in his house—since Tsunade had suggested Shizune moved in with him for a couple of days to show him how everything worked—and he _definitely_ drew the line at hearing Yamanaka's voice. The loud woman was obviously much more excited for the baby than should be humanly possible, if the mountains of clothes she had bought her were any indication, and the last thing he wanted to see at that point was her manifesting that excitement.

A small sound, somewhere between a mewl and a squeak, reached his ears and snapped him out of his murderous thoughts, redirecting his attention to the baby in his arms.

With a furrow between his brows, he grabbed her securely by the waist and pulled her away from him, holding her at a distance so that he could study her properly. Her tiny arms and legs stayed scrunched up to her body, and her onyx eyes opened halfway to stare back at him. She blinked once, twice, and if he didn't know any better, he would have said she was annoyed that he had bothered her and was therefore attempting to glare at him.

Ino's comments aside, if she was to learn anything worth learning from him, that would be the Uchiha glare.

Stretching his arms to hold her even further away, Sasuke cocked his head to the side.

"How hard can it be?" he muttered under his breath. How much damage could a breathing, scrunched-up little munchkin do?

As though in response, she yawned and let out another squeak. Sasuke brought her back to his chest and, balancing her in one arm, made his way into the kitchen to prepare her bottle.

Tsunade had given him a crash course into feeding, changing, and bathing, all in one, the second time he went to visit her that fateful day. It became apparent, by then, that he had made up his mind, so the blonde Hokage had taken it upon herself to make sure he was prepared.

Sasuke hadn't minded then and he certainly didn't mind now. He'd needed all the help he could get, and with what he'd received, he could take it from here on. There was no other option, really.

It was a bit trickier than he had anticipated, preparing her first bottle with only one available hand, but he wasn't a shinobi for nothing, so Sasuke managed perfectly. Taking her back to the living room, he sat down on one of the armchairs and changed her position, cradling her carefully to his chest. She squeaked—in annoyance, he supposed—and opened her heavy lids, looking up at him with bleary eyes. She accepted the bottle immediately, though, and almost greedily, latching on as soon as he tapped it to her lips. He smirked softly when he realized that eating would clearly not be a problem.

The milk seemed to make her drunk as it settled in her stomach; as her hands remained scrunched up into little fists, her eyes rolled into the back of her head and then hid behind heavy eyelids. She seemed to finish her bottle in record time, though, obviously, Sasuke had no way of knowing what her actual record was. He placed the empty bottle on the coffee table and changed her position, cradling her head gently in his hand as she rested it against his collarbone. He sat up and, with her in his arms, made his way down the hallway, to the room he hadn't had the courage to enter again since that first time.

Flicking the light on, he stood in the doorway for a moment, taking in his surroundings, before sighing softly and heading for the small changing table set up in a corner. Once he reached it, he carefully lowered the baby down upon it, his eyes softening when she squeaked in response to the loss of warmth. She blinked and gazed up at him.

He hesitated in taking his hands away from her tiny body, his mind having to step in and remind him that, small as she was, she wouldn't be going anywhere for a long time. Inwardly shaking his head at his own stupidity, he walked towards the cluster of shopping bags, glancing in a few before deciding on one and picking it up. Setting it on a cabinet, he pulled out a tiny, pink onesie with a ridiculous lion on the front. It had long sleeves, and he could only suppose it served as a pajama, because there were other, fancier pieces of clothing nestled in the bags. Lying it down next to his niece, he glanced around for a bag of diapers, finding it with a little difficulty.

He made a small mental note to organize the room, find everything a place, sort through her mountain of clothes and maybe figure out what they all served for while he was at it.

The little girl looked up at him when his face came in her view once more, blinking softly, languidly. Sasuke furrowed his brows and, with trembling hands, reached down to unbutton her shirt. The buttons were the tiniest he had ever seen and he fumbled with them for a minute, before the hardest part actually began, and he had to slide the shirt off her body. How he was even supposed to do that, he didn't know.

She was just… tiny. Ridiculously small. So fragile, so easy to break.

Tsunade had handled her with expert hands and without an ounce of the delicacy he felt he had to use in every touch.

Sasuke was a graceful fighter. Not like Naruto, who bombarded straight into the enemy, without a single speck of grace in his step. He was confident in his abilities and comfortable in his own skin, aware of his strengths and weaknesses, moved with speed and agility and with every single action planned ahead.

Needless to say, he had never felt as graceless as he did in that very moment; he highly doubted his movements had ever been as awkward as they were when he undressed his niece and fumbled with her diaper, not even when he picked up a kunai for the first time. Tsunade had told him he needed to make sure she was clean, but she said he could use warm, wet towels if he wasn't comfortable with giving her a bath. He certainly wasn't, so he did his best, before awkwardly slipping her little limbs into the onesie.

She remained silent throughout the whole ordeal, though, as if sensing his inexperience and unease. He looked down at his handiwork after he was done, quite proud, but she only yawned and stretched in a small, delicate movement.

Reaching down, he picked her up and held her to his chest, placing a hand securely over her tiny back. Reaching for a pink blanket made of the softest material he had ever touched, he gently covered her with it, before heading for the living room, where he, careful not to jostle her, sat down on the couch. Outside, the sky had darkened to a navy blue, the sun slipping beyond the horizon, casting shadows into the room. Sasuke didn't bother to turn on the lights.

The baby was asleep within minutes, her small back moving rhythmically beneath his hand. He held her for a longer time than was probably necessary, though he was unsure why. Part of him told him he wanted to make sure she was truly asleep. He decided to go with that particular explanation.

It was a bit anticlimactic, to be perfectly honest, all of his fear and anxiety coming down to this moment, when she slept peacefully in his arms without him having to do much of anything to achieve it. But, for once, he found, quite unsurprisingly, that he didn't mind not having his expectations met.

When he did lay her down in her crib, making sure the warm blanket covered her small body, all she did was stir. She moved one of her tiny hands and let out an even breath. Gazing down at her, all warm and cozy and silent, Sasuke felt much more confident and comfortable in his own skin than he had ever felt in the past week.

He went to bed early that night, never bothering with dinner because, for some reason or another, he felt too jittery to be able to hold anything down. He laid his head on his pillow and closed his eyes—and decided that _he could do this_; he could take care of his niece. He fell asleep, completely confident in his conviction.

Until he was awakened, two hours later, by a loud shriek.

* * *

Three days of living with his niece were the only indicative Sasuke needed in order to realize that sleep had become a thing of the past for him. Out of all the goals and ambitions he'd had throughout his life, this seemed to be the most unattainable one.

The baby was crying—all the goddamn time. When she wasn't crying, she was eating—because she ate like a fucking horse. And when she wasn't doing either of them, _she_ slept peacefully.

Between his usual nightmares and needing his own food to stay alive, Sasuke felt as if it had been months since he last closed his eyes.

That particular night, she seemed to have decided that screaming her lungs away was the best way to pass the time. She had been crying for over an hour. Sasuke was tired, pushed to the very brink of his patience, and just about ready to drop her to the couch and let her cry herself to sleep, since nothing he did seemed to calm her at all, in any case.

Pacing the length of his living room, he groaned.

"Come on, kid," he said, his voice dangerously close to an exasperated whine. Pulling back, he supported her little head in the palm of his hand. "_What_ do you _want_? I fed you and I bathed you and you're clean. What is it that you want?"

The baby continued to cry, undeterred. Her face was red and wet with the tears that relentlessly streamed down her cheeks, her eyes were squeezed shut and her hands were curled in tight fists.

"Great, you're stubborn," he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

His niece fisted his shirt and pulled herself as close as possible to him, burying her head in the crook of his neck.

Sasuke blinked and, despite his body's natural reaction to cringe and shy away from the loud noise that relocated right beside his ear, his eyes softened. Placing his hand over her tiny back, he resigned himself to listening to her cries and holding her until she finally decided it was time to shut up.

"Geez, for someone so small, you sure make one hell of a ruckus," he muttered, more to himself than to his niece, who continued to wail in his shoulder. "You've got a killer set of lungs, I bet."

He fell silent after that, releasing only a frustrated sigh when he came to stand by the window, gazing out on the darkened streets. One thing was for sure: he'd never appreciated how peaceful Konoha was during the night before; he'd needed to have a baby dropped onto him so that he'd learn to appreciate it. Loud wake-up calls worked best for him, it seemed.

Far from calming down with time, the little girl started crying even harder once his voice stopped reaching her ears.

Sasuke's eyes narrowed.

"You want me to _talk_?" he asked, exhaustion rendering him silly enough to consider the possibility of her actually answering him in some way. "Seriously?"

The baby let out another loud wail and Sasuke's brain kicked his body into overdrive. Agitated, and with the possibility of silence once again at the forefront of his mind, he began to pace the room.

"_Fine_," he almost spat, resigned. "Um… I'm your uncle. Yeah. Your father was my brother… a really shitty one, at that. Though you don't need to learn that word… ever. Your mother… don't get me started on your mother. She doesn't deserve to be mentioned. We're alone—you and me. Small family. Which is weird, with how many of us there used to be."

Slowly, but surely, her cries quieted—though only slightly at first, Sasuke was immediately able to tell, seeing as it was in his ear that she was practically screaming. He swallowed and continued, racking his brain for more things to say. He had a feeling he hadn't spoken so many words in his entire lifetime; ironically enough, when he did speak them, he said them to someone who couldn't understand and couldn't care less.

"I… your father… he's not here anymore. But I am. And I'll take care of you. I'll probably do a shitty job at first… and then afterwards, but… but I'll do my best. How does that sound?"

As though in response, the baby wailed, the sound much weaker than before.

Sasuke huffed. "Not so good, huh? But it's all I can give you. I… I'll learn. For you. Whatever's necessary. And… that may never be enough, but… but at least you won't be alone. Ever. That, I promise. No lies or deceptions or secrets… I promise."

As he rested his cheek against the top of her head, her black hair tickling his skin, the baby girl laid her head on his shoulder and finally fell silent.

* * *

Sasuke ticked his pen against the wooden table he had set up in the kitchen, gazing down at the paper laid out in front of him. A cup of tea sat, untouched, beside him.

Tsunade had handed him a stack of documents to complete, and he had sorted through them and filled in every blank—except for one.

He needed to name this child. He couldn't spend the rest of his life calling her 'kid' or, even worse, not calling her at all.

Truthfully, there had been a name all along. A name that had stayed with him, in his subconscious, buried neatly under a stack of unimportant information, ready to promptly slide up to the surface when he called for it. A name that seemed to have sprung up the very moment he met her eyes for the first time.

_Mikoto._

It was the name that reminded him most of home, of family, of everything he had lost so easily and unexpectedly. It was all that he associated with love, with comfort, with protection and safety. Moreover, it had belonged to the most amazing person he had known. It was the perfect name for his niece.

But nothing was ever that simple in his life. Everything came with complications and painful memories and implications—even that.

Would Itachi _want_ to call her Mikoto? Was that what he would have done had he been in his place? Far from him feeling that he was honoring their mother by naming his daughter after her, would it have reminded him, time and time again, of her—of her, whom he'd had to kill?

What _did_ Itachi feel for their mother? Was he upset with her for accepting his father's thirst for rebellion? Was he as resentful with her as he was with the entire clan for forcing him to do what he did? Or did he love her as much as Sasuke did, and felt torn over what he'd done? Would he want her memory haunting him—and hovering over his daughter? He killed the Uchiha clan in hopes for a better future. Would he want to see the past every single day?

On the other hand, would he want to honor their mother—who hadn't had the opportunity to live the life she deserved, to hold her sons, not to mention her grandchildren, in her arms?

How was he supposed to do this? How was he supposed to do what was right for everybody, when he couldn't even do what was right for himself? How was he supposed to honor his parents, his clan, his brother, and at the same time, ensure that this little girl had the future she deserved?

Why did people expect him to? How had he reached this point and why had _he_ been the one to reach it?

Dropping his head in his palms, he heaved a sigh.

He wasn't the one who was supposed to do this. He wasn't the one who was supposed to worry about his clan, about its future, about its honor… Nobody had ever taught him what was right. There had only been one time in his entire life when his father told him that he had done good, that he was worthy of being called an Uchiha. Itachi had always been the one supposed to handle the clan. He had always been the one their father focused his attention on. Maybe if it had been the other way around, and he had spared Sasuke a glance every once in a while, he would have found it easier to deal with all of this now. Maybe he would have had an answer.

But he hadn't and he didn't. All he had to rely on was his heart—and his mind, but that had always proven to be his worst enemy.

With that thought in mind, he picked up his pen and scribbled the name that _he_ thought suited her in the leftover blanks.

He couldn't look after everybody. He couldn't know what they wanted, because they weren't there anymore. But _he_ was, and this little girl was, and maybe he would do better by taking care of the living rather than the dead, this time around.

* * *

"So…" Naruto drew out the word, slowly, big blue eyes glancing around the room—observing; until, finally, coming to a conclusion. "Everything seems quiet enough."

Sasuke wanted to punch him so hard he sent him flying into the next building.

But he was too tired even for that, and so resigned at throwing him a deadly glare.

The blond swallowed, and was quick to jump to his own defense, "It _does_!"

"Shut the _fuck_ up," Sasuke snarled in response, slouching further down in his seat.

They were both in his living room. He was slumped on the couch, while Naruto was seated on the floor, in front of the coffee table, tucking into a steaming bowl of ramen. He'd brought one for Sasuke between the three he'd brought for himself, which the Uchiha frankly thought was a nice, thoughtful gesture. Coming from Naruto, though, he had to wonder about his true intentions. While the blond had a habit of doing sensible things while making them look stupid, he _was_ also _very_ stupid, which left him unsure of what to think most of the times.

In the end, he decided not to think at all, since his head already hurt enough from lack of sleep.

"It still seems pretty quiet to me," Naruto continued, and Sasuke wanted to groan, "But since you look like shit, I'll take your word for it and guess it isn't like this all the time."

"Hn," he grunted in response, vaguely pleased that he'd managed to understand that without him having to use the last of his energy to beat it into him, and closed his eyes.

For a matter of about ten seconds, there was silence, except for the sound of Naruto slurping noodles.

"Dude, if you don't plan on eating that ramen anytime soon, you know _I_ will!" he then proclaimed.

This time, Sasuke actually groaned out loud, but opened his eyes and sat forward, reaching for his food. He was, after all, hungry, and since there was no way he could sleep with his loudmouthed friend around, he might as well cross something else from the list.

"So, when is she gonna start speaking?" Naruto asked, excitement clear in his voice.

Sasuke turned to regard him with a bland expression on his face.

The blond blinked. "What? What did I say?"

"How should I know, idiot?" he answered, annoyed.

"How should you know what I said?!"

"How should I know when she starts speaking?" he clarified through gritted teeth.

"Oh! Well, you should find out!" he advised with a nod. "I mean, aren't you supposed to teach her or something?"

Sasuke narrowed his eyes condescendingly. "I'm pretty sure it doesn't work like that."

"Yeah, but you don't know for _sure_!" Naruto retorted back, one step away from sticking his tongue out at him.

The Uchiha rolled his eyes. "Shut up, dobe."

"Whatever," he said. "You can ask for help, you know? I said I'd help you. I don't know when she's gonna start speaking, but I can help you find out. That's what friends do, right? But you have to ask me first so I know _how_ to help you."

In a somewhat softer voice than before, Sasuke answered, "I don't want your help, dobe."

He wouldn't deny that he _needed_ help—so much that even that of his idiotic best friend, who was probably even more clueless than he was, counted. Every bit counted, to be perfectly honest, if he knew how to make good use of it. Maybe Naruto wouldn't be much of a help in practical terms, but he would be _there_, and that would be enough, because Sasuke knew he could trust him to tell him when he fucked up.

But he didn't _want_ to be told; he wanted to find out on his own; he wanted to find a way _not_ to fuck up. He needed Naruto's help, but he wouldn't take it. He'd been alone most of his life and he'd made every mistake in the book and then some; it was high time he learned how to avoid them.

Besides, this was Itachi's daughter they were talking about. She was his niece. She wasn't Naruto's or Tsunade's relative. Her upbringing was _his_ burden to bear.

And maybe, maybe, she could also be his redemption.

"I know you don't, you've told me that before," Naruto said. "But you have it. We're friends. And if you ever need me to look after her when—"

Good intentions aside, Sasuke scoffed out loud at his train of thought. "I'd be dead before I let you look after my niece, dobe."

"Hey!" he complained, loudly enough to scare the Uchiha into thinking Mikoto would wake up. "What is _that_ supposed to mean?" he continued, lowering his voice in response to the glare that had been sent his way.

Sasuke decided not to dignify him with an answer. Instead, he returned his attention to his food.

"Fine!" Naruto whispered harshly. "Whatever! Why don't you ask Sakura-chan to help you out a bit, then? She's dealt with babies before, at the hospital. Plus, she's a girl, so she _has_ to know more than us!"

Sasuke almost want to snort at the idea. Sakura had been avoiding him ever since he returned to Konoha, never tending to him when he was in the hospital, always steering clear of him on the streets, always refusing to be the medic on his ANBU team. The only two words she had said to him where spoken in the aftermath of the battle, when his decision of coming home had spread like wildfire through the camp, and those were: "Welcome back." They were low, muttered under her breath, and she had said them with her eyes cast on the ground, without truly meaning them, only because Naruto was there waiting for a response from her part. Then she had turned her back on the two of them and left.

In a way, Sasuke had expected that. She was wary of him and tense in his presence and he could understand. He'd tried to blast her head off in the most brutal of ways, and he was incredibly sorry for that. But, on the other hand, he'd done it because he'd been angry—angry because his family was dead, angry because his brother was dead, angry because he'd been lied to and manipulated all his life; angry because she, of all the people, had turned her back on him. He hadn't been himself. What was _her_ excuse for trying to kill him?

She didn't have one. She didn't have one, yet she seemed to be under the impression that she had all the right in the world to impersonate the role of the victim, and because of that, Sasuke would be _damned_ before he made the first step to mend their broken relationship. He didn't want to be a victim, but he was more of one than she had ever been and would ever be, and at the moment, he had one too many problems to even _consider_ taking on that of an annoying woman who couldn't reign over her own emotions. After all, nothing truly tied them anymore, and if she wasn't willing to move past the incident enough to have a normal conversation with him, then he wouldn't seek dealing with her and that was the end of it. The problem didn't lie with him, so he didn't see why he'd be the one to ask for forgiveness first.

Though, he didn't see why he'd even have to grant it, in the first place. She tried to _kill_ him. She looked at him in the eye and tried to deceive him—all that, after she had confessed her love to him and repeated, numerous times, that she would do anything for him, that she would go to the end of the world for him. How could he trust such a person? How could he want her in his life when it was already in shambles?

"I'm serious, teme!" Naruto whined with a mouthful of noodles in his mouth.

It was clear to Sasuke that the blond was much more affected than him by the existing tension between his two ex-teammates and friends, but that was also not his problem, because Naruto had always been ridiculously idealistic and stupidly naïve, and refused to understand that not all wounds healed and not everything could go back to the way it used to be.

"No, dobe," he answered in what he hoped was a firm enough tone.

"I can ask her if you want me to!"

It wasn't.

Turning his head sharply in his direction, Sasuke glared. "Do that and I'll rip your head off," he warned.

Naruto, however, pressed on. "She knows about Miko-chan."

The Uchiha cringed. "Don't call her Miko-chan!"

"But she does!" he insisted.

"I don't _care_," Sasuke spat. "I already told you, I don't need anyone's help. I'll figure everything out on my own."

"I know you can do that, Sasuke. No one doubts it. But you don't _have_ to do it alone."

"I want to," he stressed. "Alright? Back the fuck off already!"

"Geez, fine!" he exclaimed, stuffing a bunch of noodles in his mouth and chewing them angrily. "But, you know…"

"I don't want to hear it," Sasuke interrupted.

Naruto glared. "You don't even know what I was about to say!"

"Either way, I don't care," he bluntly spat out. "You're _stupid_."

"Hey!"

It was the second time his loud exclamation resounded through the apartment, and, this time, it did succeed in waking the baby up.

As Sasuke glared at him harder than he had ever done, Naruto lowered his head between his shoulders and squeaked out a small apology, before bending over his bowl of ramen and pretending to be busy devouring it.

The Uchiha, quite frankly, wanted to punch him—once again. But as his niece's desperate cries continued to ring out down the hallway, he decided he had other priorities over beating the dobe up.

With a heavy sigh, he stood and made his way to her room. The cries increased in volume as he opened the door, and he cringed lightly as he approached the white crib. She was red-faced and in obvious distress, her hands and legs moving in jerky movements that matched her erratic breathing.

"Come on," he grunted, picking her up and cradling her in his arms, accommodating her head on his shoulder. "You can't be crying because of that idiot."

Her cries subsided slightly at the sound of his familiar voice and the warmth of his protective embrace. They usually did, he had come to notice. She seemed to feel safe in his presence, which he thought was ridiculous, but which reminded him, time and time again, of how defenseless she actually was. Sakura could avoid him. Naruto could beat him up. But what could Mikoto do to defend herself against him? Nothing.

He placed his hand over her small back. She grumbled, sniffled, and buried her head into the crook of his neck, her tiny hand fisting his dark shirt.

Sasuke sighed and crossed the room, figuring that, since she was already awake, he could be productive and feed her before she woke up a second time screaming for food.

Naruto looked up from his spot on the floor when he walked into his line of sight, rounding the corner for the kitchen.

The Uchiha had now become an expert at doing basically everything with only one free hand, so preparing her milk was hardly a challenge anymore. Mikoto fell silent while he heated up her food, hands clenched in the fabric of his shirt. All of his tops were snotty because of her, but at least she never threw up on him; that counted for _something_.

Once her milk was heated, Sasuke brought her to the living room, where Naruto was still craning his neck upwards, probably curious as to what was happening beyond what he could see, in the kitchen. He glared at him, making sure he didn't forget he'd done something stupid, but otherwise kept silent as he settled down on the couch and shifted Mikoto so that she was cradled in his arms.

Naruto finished what appeared to be his second bowl of ramen in a large slurp and then leaped onto the couch, beside him. Sasuke turned his head and narrowed his eyes at him in warning, to which he simply smiled sheepishly and scratched the back of his head in a characteristic move.

Sasuke rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the baby in his arms, who was sucking happily on her bottle, oblivious to the tension between the two males in the room.

The blond was silent for approximately ten seconds.

"Can I hold her?" he asked, making absolutely no effort to hide the enthusiasm from his voice. "Please, teme?"

Sasuke almost snorted. "Hn," he grunted in response.

"Please?" he tried again. This time, he actually shifted closer to them, causing the Uchiha to growl lowly in his throat.

"There's no way I'm letting you touch her, dobe," he spoke through gritted teeth.

"Oh, come on, teme!" he complained, loudly, yet again. "I'm like her second uncle! You've got to let me hold her sometime!"

But his answer was simple. "No."

The blond continued to complain, because nothing could ever determine him to give up, but Sasuke tuned him out and chose instead to stare down at his niece. He found himself doing that a lot lately. He supposed it was normal, since she was the only breathing thing other than him in his apartment and she commanded his attention like no one ever had.

She had grown. She was still ridiculously small, but she had put on enough weight that it was noticeable when he picked her up. Currently, she was calm and seemed content in his arms.

Sasuke wanted to roll his eyes at her. _Of course_ she felt content in his arms; she could sleep whenever she wanted and for however long she wanted, she had someone else feed her, change her, bathe her, dress her, and look after her. Why _wouldn't_ she be content? Life was easy.

Then he wanted to roll his eyes at himself for thinking that would be of any help. Exhaustion was clearly catching up with him.

"Look at you all snuggled up!" Naruto gushed mockingly, and it was only then that he realized he had shut up.

He threw him a glare in response, but the blond ignored it, already used to his reactions.

"She really _is_ the cutest thing ever," he said instead, blue eyes fixed on the baby girl's tiny figure.

Sasuke watched her suck eagerly from her bottle, her big eyes wide open and her little hands curled into fists against her chest, and for the first time, he felt inclined to agree.

* * *

Sasuke walked into his bedroom, dressed in nothing more than a pair of navy sweatpants, and made his way straight to the bed, where his niece was lying on her back, wrapped up in her favorite pink blanket. She caught his gaze as soon as he entered the room, and he quirked an eyebrow down at her as he crouched down so that he was at eye-level with her.

Studying her for a moment in silence, he then spoke, "Wanna have a bath?"

She blinked in response.

Sasuke inwardly slapped himself for his own stupidity, but the truth was that, over the past couple of weeks, he'd found himself talking to her more than he would ever be willing to admit out loud. She always seemed interested in what he had to say, though, if that could be considered a plus.

Heaving a sigh, he parted the blanket in the middle and picked her up, holding her to his chest. She was completely silent as he moved, with her in his arms, out of the room and into the bathroom at the end of the hall.

He had never bathed her before, choosing instead to clean her with damp towels. Tsunade had told him that was alright and he held on to that, because he'd been scared as hell to actually wash her. He'd been afraid to hold her when she was dry; he hadn't even wanted to imagine the disaster that could possibly happen between her wet, slippery skin and his hands that seemed too big and too clumsy whenever they were anywhere in her proximity.

But that had changed. Now, he was more comfortable with holding her, feeding her, and changing her—so comfortable that he felt ready to take it one step further and actually bathe her. A mere three weeks before, he had been unable to even dream about this moment, and the fact that it had finally arrived made him feel strangely proud of his accomplishment and his obvious progress.

The bathtub in his apartment was small, nowhere close to the one he used to have when he lived back in his childhood home. Most of the Uchiha District had been leveled along with the rest of Konoha during the war and the many attacks that had been unleashed upon the village, but Tsunade had said she could assign a team to rebuild his home if he wanted—return it to livable conditions. He had never given her a definite answer for a very simple reason: it hurt too much to make a decision. It would hurt if he was to move in a large house all by himself and be forced to rewind memories of a happier time with each turn he took and it would hurt if he was to say no—no to rebuilding his house, no to returning to the Uchiha District, no to keeping the memory of his family intact, even if it was only in his mind. So, like many other things in his life, Sasuke had decided to leave the matter open and unresolved.

At the current moment, though, he saw the situation in a different light. With Mikoto in his life, moving back into his childhood home, as full of painful memories as it was, didn't sound as bad anymore. And, he realized then, it was probably loneliness that he had feared all along; not colorful, vivid memories, but pitch and utter darkness.

Before heading after his niece, he had let the water run for a minute, until it reached his wrist when his palm was lying flat on the surface of the bathtub. He made sure it was what he thought to be the perfect temperature, before carefully undressing the baby and placing her in the tub.

Mikoto made a surprised noise and seemed to be unsure of what to make of her current predicament, at first, and Sasuke prayed she wouldn't start crying, because that would definitely put a damper on his willingness to ever bathe her again. She didn't. Instead, she moved her black eyes up to his and steadily held his gaze.

Reaching for a towel, Sasuke folded it in half and gingerly placed it under her head for better support. She was soft, small, and fragile, and he was still so scared of hurting her it sometimes paralyzed him. She was clearly an Uchiha, though—with her black eyes and back hair. Sasuke could even say for certain that she'd attempted, more than once, to glare at him. She couldn't quite muster it yet, but the feeling was definitely there, and he believed it was a good start.

Sighing, he broke eye-contact and reached for the special shower gel he had found through her belongings, before gazing back down at her and wondering what the best way to proceed with was in this situation, trying to push thoughts of how he would have now been sitting in front of his television with a box of pizza on his lap and no worries in his heart to the back of his mind. There was no use thinking about what-ifs when they were never going to happen.

He'd never thought he'd find himself in such a predicament, though. With the life he'd led and the enemies he'd made, he'd even given up on the idea of having his own children. He supposed the best way to put it was that he'd never actively thought about it. He simply stopped seeing it as a possibility for the future. What he saw was him, dying on a battlefield, on a mission, after a fight with what had to be a formidable opponent, his name carved on a headstone that no one visited other than maybe his stupid old teammate who never truly knew when to give up on him. He'd reached that conclusion when he returned to Konoha. Before, he'd been sure he'd die in the war. What was actually scary was the fact that he'd been _ready_ to die. After all, he didn't have anything to live for anymore.

But now… now he did. And it wasn't a rage-fueled goal that he had to strive to achieve so much and so hard it monopolized his entire time. It was something else. He had someone to take care of now. He'd been alone for all his life and disregarded everyone's feelings regarding his well-being and even his life, but he couldn't do that anymore. Now, someone depended on him. The responsibility that lay on his shoulders was much bigger than ever.

Running the washcloth softly over his niece's shoulders, he huffed. His life, it seemed, would always center on his brother. Traveling down her arms, he opened her little fists to wash her thoroughly, only half-surprised when she immediately clamped down on his fingers. Raising his gaze to meet hers, his eyes instantly softened and a heavy weight seemed to descend upon his heart.

How was he supposed to ever tell her that _he'd_ been the one to squeeze the life out of her father? That his entire life had been built around that one goal? That he'd abandoned everything once in order to hunt him down and kill him?

He swallowed heavily once the thought crossed his mind.

Mikoto looked up at him with big, black eyes and held onto both of his fingers with all the strength contained in her tiny body, so willing and trusting and so utterly _helpless_.

His heart clenched in his chest and his throat seemed to close up in anxiety.

Tenderly washing her hair and the rest of her body, he grabbed her securely around the waist and pulled her up, holding his breath until she was safely tucked into his chest, wrapped up in a big, fluffy towel. She gurgled in response, and he wanted to roll his eyes. She had it easy, there was no doubt about that—not that there had ever been.

Taking her with him to his bedroom, he laid her down on the bed, before heading over to her room to choose a fresh set of clothes for her and a bottle of baby lotion from the many Ino had decided his niece would need. Some smelled flowery, some smelled fresh, while others made him want to puke by how sweet they were. Eventually, after too many minutes spent contemplating, he decided on a vanilla scented one. It smelled sugary, but not overly sweet, and it was infinitely better than his other options.

Making his way back to his bedroom, he found Mikoto lying on her back, exactly as he had left her, chewing on the end of her towel. Smirking, he laid everything on the bed, beside her, and crouched down in front of her.

She was silent as he awkwardly rubbed the lotion into her skin, having never done that before, and even as he put on her diaper and dressed her in a bright red onesie with little bows printed all over it in a random pattern. She yawned as he stood to gather her leftover belongings, and he told himself that maybe he would have a relatively silent night if she was as tired as she seemed.

He cleaned up in the bathroom and threw a shirt on, before heading back to his bedroom. Mikoto was still awake, simply lying there—so quietly and peacefully that Sasuke couldn't resist the temptation of settling down beside her. She turned her head to look at him, watching him with curious black eyes, and he smirked softly. She was cute, he'd definitely give her that.

Turning on his side, facing her, Sasuke briefly ran a hand over her soft hair, before closing his eyes.

He had no idea when sleep snuck up on him.

* * *

Late afternoon light streamed in through the windows as Sasuke sat on the floor, hunched over the coffee table, working on a couple of reports he had fallen behind with once Mikoto stepped into the picture.

When he returned to Konoha, he spent a total of three weeks on probation, before Tsunade seemed to realize that he had already proven his loyalty by taking the biggest step possible: that of returning to the village that had murdered his entire family. He could have allowed Madara to destroy the entire world in his quest for revenge, but he hadn't; he had risked his life alongside his old comrades, and he had returned at the insistence of his old teammate. If that wasn't proof enough of his intention to let go of the hatred and start over, nothing would ever be.

Almost immediately after that, she granted him a place in ANBU. He supposed it was more because she needed him than because she thought he deserved that level of trust from, essentially, the entire village, but it had never occurred to him to complain, because it had probably been the best thing that could have possibly happened to him at the time.

Missions were long and usually came one after another with few to no breaks in between. They were S-ranked and, most of the times, solo, since Naruto had stayed behind to participate in the Jounin exams and eventually start his Hokage training, and Tsunade seemed to understand where his reluctance to form new bonds surged from.

As it was, he supposed he might as well hand in his resignation one of these days. No one had mentioned it, but it was clear to him that he had no way of completing any ANBU level mission anytime soon—not with how long and grueling they were, and not now that he had Mikoto.

The little human being in question was currently lying on top of a blanket, on the couch, sleeping more peacefully than Sasuke had been able to in a long time.

As he turned his head in her direction, the Uchiha contemplated taking her with him to see Tsunade once he finished the reports he was working on. He'd mastered the art of leaving her with a clone whenever he needed to buy groceries or simply step out of the house, but he wasn't comfortable leaving her alone, without the real him there, for a long period of time and without a good reason.

Unfortunately, that also put a damper on his strict training regime and old routine. He hadn't trained properly in weeks and he was going a bit stir-crazy… But the truth was that, when he looked at her, it was as if he could see the world with different eyes.

He supposed that was how responsibility felt—responsibility for another breathing human being. The dead, he decided, were easier to deal with; they gave him more freedom.

He wouldn't give up Mikoto for that, though. In fact, he was slowly coming to realize he wouldn't give her up for anything.

Life wasn't as hectic now as it used to be only a couple of weeks back. She was calmer. She was awake for more time, and naturally, she ate more, but she only woke him up about three times a night. Tsunade had stressed the importance of him establishing a routine for her to go through every single night, and he was glad he had listened, because it seemed to have worked. Mikoto fell asleep when he wanted her to and he seemed to have learned what calmed her down on the rare occasions that she didn't. She was more comfortable in his presence, too. She started to coo and gurgle and make all types of curious noises, and she would move her arms and legs as if she actually had a purpose. And she would stare at him—all the time. Had it not been for her black, expressive eyes, Sasuke would have found it creepy. As it was, he didn't.

He also found it easier to take care of her. He had finally gotten round to organizing her room, and perhaps more importantly, he could now tell what half of the things Ino had bought her served for. He could dress her more easily. He could change her diaper in less than a minute. He had even tried to brush her hair once, and she'd seemed to like it, but he hadn't had time to do it again. He bathed her every night, and he'd become accustomed to her wet, slippery skin. He wasn't as afraid anymore.

Yes, it took time. And yes, he was half-asleep most of the day. Yes, he sometimes felt like ripping his hair out in frustration. But, at the end of the day, when he drew the line, he realized that looking after his niece wasn't as hard as his anxiety had made it seem in the beginning. It was, at its very core, a routine. And Sasuke was used to routine. He _loved_ routine, because it offered the stability he'd craved for all his life.

At not even a month old, Mikoto gave him something he hadn't had in what seemed to be forever. She offered him a family; she offered him someone to come home to.

And Sasuke was more thankful for that than he'd ever been for anything in his entire life, even if he had yet to fully acknowledge that.

* * *

Mikoto stretched, squeaking as she always did when she regained consciousness, a wake-up call of sorts, and Sasuke's attention was diverted to her in an instant.

Crossing the living room in order to reach the couch, he gently picked her up; she whined in his neck, almost as if she wanted to cry but could find no reason anymore, after which she thankfully fell silent. Breathing out a sigh of relief, the Uchiha made his way back to the kitchen, where he was busy looking over an old scroll. If he couldn't train as much as before, he could at least focus on developing new techniques.

Mikoto, apparently, had no intention whatsoever of letting him do even that; his attention was hers and hers alone, it seemed.

Narrowing his eyes in mild annoyance, Sasuke jiggled her in the crook of his arm, watching as she lifted her head from his shoulder and opened her pitch-black eyes. _Good_, he thought, with a pinch of satisfaction. If she was going to demand his attention, then the least she could do was stay awake for it.

"Yo!"

A loud puff and a sudden greeting was his only warning before the smoke cleared and his old sensei popped into his kitchen uninvited.

Sasuke narrowed his eyes at him, while the baby in his arms turned her head in the direction of the noise, curious. He placed his palm beneath her head, supporting it gently in case she was unable to hold it up anymore, while at the same time thanking Kami she hadn't started crying.

By now, he had a feeling she only cried when she was hungry, when she wanted to be changed, when she wanted attention—and when she _wanted_, period. Otherwise, she was curious—always turned her head at the smallest of noises, always kept her eyes on his figure, gazing at him quietly, studying him and everything in her path.

Kakashi seemed to be no exception.

"My, my," he started, and he almost rolled his eyes in advance. "I heard you're an uncle, but I said I wouldn't believe it until I saw it with my own eyes." His visible eye sparkled, a teasing glint in it, and Sasuke had no doubt that, beneath his mask, he was smiling.

He remained silent. Mikoto rested her head back on his shoulder, her gaze still fixed on Kakashi, gurgling softly.

"She does look like your brother," Kakashi stated, surprising him. "Though I suppose one could just as well say she is yours."

Sasuke sighed, and, this time, decided to dignify him with an answer. "Yeah. I know."

Kakashi seemed to hesitate, though only for a fraction of second, before he opened his mouth to speak again, "Mikoto, did I hear right?" he asked.

Sasuke swallowed heavily and, with a stiff nod, moved to lean against the counter, gazing down at his feet.

He'd never called her that. It was her name, he'd scribbled it on the birth certificate himself before signing it, but he'd never called her that. He never addressed her much, that was a given, but when he did, he continued to call her the nondescript 'kid'. Naruto called her by her name—all the goddamn time, as if he expected her to actually answer one of these days. But Sasuke didn't. Part of him said he was a coward; part of him soothed his pride by assuring him he wasn't quite ready yet—not for that.

Lost in his thoughts, he failed to hear his old sensei following him further into the room.

Until he spoke.

"Honoring the dead, Sasuke… is the only thing we can do for them. Nothing can change the past and the fact that they are no longer with us. All we can do is try to keep their memory alive."

As ridiculous as it might sound, because those were words he could have easily repeated to himself over and over again, like a mantra, Sasuke melted—and he finally felt like he could breathe again.

* * *

Sasuke sighed as he stepped out of the shower cabin, reaching for a towel from the rack to pat his body dry.

A lukewarm shower had been exactly what he had needed to protect himself against the sudden heat wave that seemed to have broken over Konoha, as well as wake up a bit. It was already late afternoon, and the sun had lowered into the sky, leaving it burning red outside his windows, but he still had to feed and bathe Mikoto, put her to sleep and then, maybe, if he had sufficient energy, cook something for himself.

Pulling on the sweatpants he had chosen earlier on, he slung a small towel over his shoulders to dry his hair with, and stepped out of the bathroom, steam billowing after him into his cooler bedroom.

A movement from his left caught his attention, and he looked up to see Mikoto awake in the middle of the bed, where he had placed her earlier. She had been peacefully asleep, and he had brought her over to his bedroom, knowing that if she started crying, he had a better chance of hearing her from the shower if she was there.

She was silent, though, even now, having turned her head in his direction. Her black eyes were fixed on his figure, her little arms moving for her own amusement. Sasuke ran the towel through his hair as he slowly made his way towards the bed.

The baby followed him with her eyes, blinking softly.

"'Sup?" he grunted, more for amusement than anything else.

Mikoto moved her little arms a little harder in response, made a noise in the back of her throat, and _smiled_, all pink gummies and dimples in her cheeks.

His heart stopped, right there.

* * *

**A/N: I know, I know. Sakura didn't appear in this chapter, but she will in the next, I promise. This is a SasuSaku story, but they have a long way to go before they can be together. What's the fun otherwise, right? However, the action will mostly remain centered on Sasuke and his healing. We'll see how that works out.**

**It's hard to write Sasuke with a baby, since who truly knows how he'd react in such a situation, but I think he'd follow the rules if he was given them. He wants to be in control, so he'll do what it takes to regain it. That's the reasoning I based practically the entire chapter on. Tsunade told him what to do, and that was the most help he would accept from her, but he listened, because she was clearly more experienced than him. **

**Thank you all for your comments! They make me feel loved!**

**So, please review! I really need your feedback here! :)**


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